


You Control the Tempo

by sherleigh



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, i can't with taem's face during that liquor store robbery in the pyn mv, idk what this fic is, suho and yesung make a brief appearance, the cosmo shoot also gave me feels, the face that launched a thousand fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherleigh/pseuds/sherleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a Taekey re-write of the liquor store robbery from Taemin's PYN MV ft. a little extra something</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

 

 

 

"I don't have anything on my schedule after the Ceci photoshoot, right?" 

 

Kibum rolls his eyes and contemplates pinching Taemin. "For the millionth time, it's not Ceci, it's Cosmopolitan. And what makes you think I would know what's on your schedule after this?"

 

Taemin makes an unhappy face. "You always know. And don't look at me like I'm stupid, the only reason I keep mistaking this shoot for Ceci is because that's the one that always likes to pair us together." 

 

It's a fair excuse, Kibum has to concede. "As far as I know, your schedule is clear after this. You're perfectly free to go home and fritter away your precious youth by eating junk food, jacking off to porn and sleeping more hours than a small toddler."

 

A casual acquaintance or a professional colleague would have been offended by the harshness of Kibum's reply, but Taemin only giggles. His bandmates are used to his teasing and his humour, and they've learnt to tell the difference between good-natured ribbing and genuine irritation. Minho might still be offended, or even Jonghyun on those days when he's sensitive, but Taemin almost never takes offence to his teasing. 

 

"I'm supposed to meet Jongin and Moonkyu for dinner," Taemin says. "We're thinking of going to that donburi place that's around the corner from the studio, or would you recommend somewhere we can have-"

 

Kibum doesn't get to hear what Taemin wants him to recommend, because that's when the sytlist comes in to their dressing room with their outfits for the shoot. Kibum likes the theme they've picked: a laidback American college theme that seems to have been inspired by their View wardrobe. It's interesting to see just how far-reaching the effects of their comeback have been and Kibum is secretly thrilled because the jeans the sytlist is handing Taemin looks exactly like the one he's picked out for Taemin for their comeback. He won't ever brag about it, but it almost feels like seeing someone walking around wearing his designs.

 

His own outfit is a pair of rolled up jeans and a simple t-shirt. 

 

*****

 

The bell over the door dings, and Kibum looks up from the game he's playing on his phone. There are only two types of people who walk into a highway liquor store at night: desperate alcoholics - who always have to be watched because they'll try to pinch something - and underage college students hoping that the place will be lax  enough to let them buy enough alcohol to pickle their livers. Which one will it be this time, Kibum wonders. He's already had to turn away two frat parties tonight, and he really doesn't want to do it a third time. 

 

The boy who walks in falls into the elusive third category, Kibum realises. Hoodie pulled up, swagger in his step; this kid isn't here for alcohol. 

 

He's really cute too - at least, what little of his face Kibum can see. The boy walks to the back, towards rack with the whiskey and the fridges with beer, and he sneaks a glance at Kibum. 

 

Not cute. Beautiful. Long, angular face. Eyes lined with kohl, the fucking hipster. Luscious lips begging to be ruined. 

 

Their eyes meet for a brief second, and pretty boy turns away quickly, as if he's embarassed to be caught staring. Kibum smirks and returns to his game; they can flirt when he brings his whiskey to counter to try and convince Kibum that he's legal. Maybe Kibum will let him buy the whiskey in exchange for his phone number. 

 

A shadow falls over the counter, and Kibum looks up to see a gun being pointed in his face. 

 

Before Kibum can put his hands up, the guy throws an empty sack - where does someone even find a sack these days - on the counter and gestures at the till with his gun. With shaking hands, Kibum fills the sack with the day's earnings, a mantra of 'don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me' running through his head. When he's emptied the till, Kibum all but hurls the sack over the counter. The kid keeps the gun pointed at him as he backs out of the store, and it's only when Kibum hears the screech of tyres pulling out of the parking lot that he dares breathe. 

 

Later, when Kibum has calmed himself enough to call the cops, he recalls the look on the kid's face as he held  Kibum at gunpoint. There had been no fear in his eyes, no anger, no glee or greed or nervousness; they were just empty. 

 

The cops come and take his statement, and the owner comes to complain that Kibum should have tried to prevent the robbery somehow, but the image of that kid's dead eyes won't leave him alone. They haunt him as he changes out of the liquor store's uniform into his own clothes and as he walks home on unsteady legs. They  occupy his thoughts so much that he doesn't hear the car pulling up behind him until it is too late. 

 

*****

 

They're doing individual shots first. The set director throws a carpet on the ground outside and with a football and a helmet and asks them to pose naturally. Kibum chooses to recline on one arm and stare directly into the camera; he can see the photographer's eyes light up with excitement, and the man even gives him a thumbs up. Taemin, on the other hand, sits cross-legged on the mat - trying not to get dirt on his jeans - and nearly puts the helmet on his painstakingly styled hair before the stylist intervenes. 

 

"Maybe Taemin should lie down?" 

 

Taemin does so, reclining on his back like Kibum is, but even Kibum can tell that it won't be a satisfactory shot with the two of them in this almost identical pose. 

 

"Taemin-ah, roll over," he says, and Taemin does as asked. That's one of the perks of working with Taemin. He takes instruction so easily, and the fact that he's maintained this sort of flexibility and suggestibility so many years since their debut sometimes astonishes Kibum. Once Taemin is resting comfortably on his stomach, Kibum gives him the helmet to use as a prop. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the photographer clicking away. 

 

They take a few shots posed like this, until the photographer says "Kibum, can you put your arm over Taemin?" 

 

Kibum thinks nothing of it. Fans love this sort of skinship and fanservice, and after knowing Taemin for so many years, an arm thrown possessively over his waist is nothing to get hot and bothered over. Kibum poses as instructed, noting at the back of his mind how Taemin fits just nicely under him, as if they were made to be matching pieces. Perhaps that's why the Ceci concept artist loves to have them together. 

 

"Kibum, just stay the way you are. Taemin, can you look this way please?" 

 

Kibum keeps his pose, but when the photographer doesn't take a shot and instead peers around the camera, Kibum guesses that Taemin's drifted off somewhere in his mind again and hasn't heard a thing. True enough, when he looks down, he sees Taemin staring in his general direction with a blank look in his eyes. 

 

"Taemin-ah, are you listening?" he asks. 

 

"Huh?" 

 

This time, Kibum pinches him. "Yah, listen to the camera-hyung." 

 

"Oh, sorry." 

 

*****

 

Kibum is going to die. 

 

He's not stupid, contrary to what his peers think. He knows that if kidnappers aren't shy about showing you their face, it's because they're confident that you're not going to be able to give them away, ergo, death. 

 

They're a nicely diverse group, his kidnappers. Black, white, hispanic, Asian. They've been drinking all and snorting coke all day. They seem like a merry bunch, except for Mr Dead Eyed Pretty Boy, who sits slumped over in his chair as if he's bored. Kibum wishes he could sit in a chair; he's been thrown under the grand piano and his hands are bound in front of him; his shoulders are aching from the strain of being forced into that position. They've left his legs untied, the idiots, but he doesn't dare get up to make a run for it. 

 

Right now, all Kibum wants is water. He hasn't had a drink since last night. They've taped his mouth shut and he can't even swallow without feeling like he's going to choke. 

 

 


	2. 2

 

 

 

Keeping up with Kibum is like trying to balance on a thing that's perpetually in motion - maybe a ship at sea during a storm, or an exercise ball on a slippery floor - and Taemin has long gven up trying to understand what makes him tick. 

 

But sometimes it's not even that. 

 

Sometimes he looks at Kibum and wonders how someone with such good features can look so bad that he should be wearing a paper bag. 

 

Sometimes Kibum looks so good that Taemin has to think of slimy, icky things like snails and beetles so that he doesn't pop a boner and make the atmosphere of their photoshoot/variety show/dance practice session awkward as fuck. 

 

Today is one of Kibum's good days, and what a day it is. 

 

The middle-part doesn't look very good on Kibum, but their stylist today has curled it slightly and his bangs look so good brushing against the top of his cheekbones. And while Kibum likes his odd and often uncomfortable fashion, he looks best when he's wearing simple things; like the t-shirt and roll-up jeans he's wearing now. 

 

Taemin wouldn't even have noticed, actually, had it not been for Kibum's directions to lie on his stomach for the photoshoot, because otherwise he'd never have been in the position to look up at Kibum and lose his breath at the way he's silhouetted against the mid-morning sunlight looking like some sort of minor god from Grecian legend.  

 

He only realises that he's missed something when Kibum's mouth moves and he fails to catch what Kibum is saying. That earns him a pinch and a reminder that they're working. Taemin apologises to the camera-hyung and wrestles his arousal-fogged brain back to work. Having Kibum's strong arm pressed against his waist doesn't help at all, not when the sensation of warm flesh cuts into his focus. It's going to be a long day. 

 

*****

 

Once it becomes six, the guys leave, one by one. They always go just before the sun sets and leave Taemin to eat dinner alone in his empty house. 

 

But today, he's not alone. Today, he's glad to see them go. 

 

The store clerk from last night is bound and stashed under the piano. He's been rolling around restlessly ever since he woke up, but he hasn't tried to run away or scream just yet. He's so pretty; sharp cheekbones and curved lips, pretty pink bangs and dark blonde curls. From the moment Taemin laid eyes on him, he knew had to have him. He'd been so careful with the shop boy; cleaning the wound on his head from being hit with Jamal's baseball bat, tying his hands in front so that he can lie comfortably on his back and keeping him under the piano where he's not exposed to the sun's harsh rays. Taemin takes good care of his things. 

 

Now that the shop boy is awake, Taemin can give him his welcome present; a blue rose from his mother's garden. They don't grow blue, of course. He fills the sprinklers with blue dye. 

 

The sharp clack of Taemin's boots against the hardwood floor echoes through the room, and the shop boy rolls onto his side, as if he's trying to hide his face.  

 

That displeases Taemin. The shop boy had been flirting with him last night - or had he read him wrong? - and there's no reason for him to be cowering away from Taemin like he's some sort of rapist. 

 

Angered, Taemin grabs his bound wrists and rolls him over roughly. The shop boy's eyes are filled with tears. 

 

Taemin lays the rose down next to his face, so that he can see it clearly. He wants the shop boy to understand that he isn't going to hurt him, that he likes him and has a house full of nice things that he's happy to share.

 

The phone rings.

 

It's in his room, and Taemin knows how dangerous it would be to leave the shop boy unattended while he answers it. Still, he can't afford to ignore the call.

 

"If you move, I will hunt you down and kill you. Are we clear?" 

 

It is not an empty threat. The shop boy nods, and Taemin stares at him just a while longer so that he knows how serious this is. Still, Taemin thinks happily as he runs off to his room, there aren't any more tears in them. The rose worked. 

 

 


	3. 3

 

 

 

 

Things improve slightly when they join Yesung and Suho for the joint shoot; first in the garden - where the stylist has them dressed in silk shirts in the frigid January air - and at the foosball table after that. Kibum is surprised to find that he's the only one who knows how to play foosball, but the photographer doesn't seem to mind. He directs them to 'act natural' - a direction which Kibum has grown to hate - and the other three fools he's partnered with take it as a cue to stand around cracking dirty jokes while he looks like he's playing foosball by himself. Eventually, Suho condescends to put a hand on one of the handles, in a position that no player would ever use. 

 

Taemin puts an arm around his shoulder and smiles such a fake smile at him that Kibum laughs; he's careful to keep his face camera-worthy, of course, he's not an amateur, but his mirth is genuine. He wonders how Taemin has managed to work for close to a decade in the entertainment industry without learning to properly fake a smile, but a small part of him is glad for it. 

 

The last part of their photoshoot is the most important: they'll be posing with the silver lockets that they're supposed to be selling. Kibum is no stranger to charity work, but if he has to be honest, this feels like just another bit of corporate shill to him. The owners of the Cosmopolitan and Louis Vuitton could very easily support all of UNICEF's needs for a whole year without even putting a dent in their revenue, but what's the point in doing that when they can sell their brand in the meantime? 

 

This time, the stylist gives him a dark green t-shirt and shorts to wear, and Kibum gives thanks to God that he waxed his legs just two days earlier. Taemin is given a very unflattering blue short-sleeved t-shirt to wear, but, as usual, no one gives a fuck about Taemin's fashion when his pretty, pretty face is there to steal the limelight. 

 

When Kibum rejoins the team at the double-decker bed that is the setting for the photoshoot, he finds Taemin chatting with Suho. He knows the two of them are close - well, closer than Taemin is to most of their co-workers at SM - and he hangs back a little so that he won't disturb their conversation. When Yesung comes out of his dressing room a moment later, Kibum talks to him instead; about the army and how Suju has changed in his absence. 

 

There isn't much time to chat; there's rain forecast in the afternoon, and since they're using natural lighting as a backdrop for the set, the photographer quickly calls them to fall into formation. He puts them through their paces mercilessly - Kibum rather enjoys it, rising to meet the challenge - and makes them pose in various combinations before finally deciding that they look best with Taemin and Yesung in the upper bunk, and Kibum and Suho standing against the double decker bed. 

 

"Key and Taemin, you two do a pinky promise with your right hands, and Suho and Yesung will do it with their left hands."

 

Kibum puts his hand up and waits for Taemin to interlock their pinkies; he doesn't need to see Taemin to know he'll be frowning, since Taemin hates holding his hand. My hands are already on the small side, Taemin used to say whenever Kibum reached for his hand, and yours are so huge they make mine look disfigured. This time, though, Taemin can't refuse. 

 

Suho leans into Kibum's side a little, and Kibum looks over to see how he's posing. Before Suho can make himself comfortable, though, Taemin slots his knee between the two of them and clamps his legs around Kibum's torso. The photograher snaps away, oblivious to silent struggle between the four of them. Kibum is surprised; Taemin is many things, but possessive is not one of them. And he certainly isn't possessive over Kibum. Maybe he's reading too much into things, Kibum thinks, but when Taemin leans forward to drape his arm over Kibum's shoulder, he knows he's not. 

 

But why?

 

*****

 

There is no doubt in Kibum's mind that his kidnapper's threat is a genuine one. His eyes, almond shaped and captivatingly blue, are devoid of sympathy or remorse. 

 

Under his gaze, Kibum had felt like a ant under a magnifying glass; helpless and subject to the whims of  cruel and capricious god. 

 

The fragrance from the rose, dyed blue, is tickling his nostrils. He's going to start sneezing soon, so Kibum rolls away from it. He wonder whether the boy will take offence at the apparent rejection of his gift, if the rose truly is a gift. Perhaps it's some sort of calling card. Perhaps the boy is a budding serial killer, and Kibum is the first victim of the Blue Rose Murderer. Who knows? 

 

A few minutes later, Kibum hears the boy's boots stomping down the hallway.

 

He's angry. Kibum doesn't know how he knows, but from the moment the boy walks into the room, Kibum can almost see a force-field of rage surrounding him. He strides over to Kibum and grabs his wrists again, wrenching Kibum's poor, strained shoulders, and Kibum's cry of pain is muffled by the duct tape.

 

"WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME?" the boy yells. Kibum feels his ears ringing, his head spinning. He can't breathe behind the duct tape. Despite his determination not to show weakness before the bunch of assholes who kidnapped him, Kibum can't hold back the tears that run down his face. He doesn't want to suffocate. Fighting against the boy's grip, Kibum brings his bound hands up to his mouth and tries picking at the corners of the duct tape. 

 

Not two seconds later, the thing is wrenched off his face. The pain is excruciating, but Kibum breathes greedily, gulping lungfuls of air as if he's a goldfish fallen from a fishbowl. 

 

"Shhh, you're okay," his kidnapper says, and for a moment Kibum is almost fooled into hearing kindness in his voice. "Are you Korean? Can you speak Korean?" 

 

It jars Kibum to hear him speak in Korean. How strange life is, that the two of them should migrate to this country and meet under these circumstances. 

 

"Please let me go," Kibum begs in Korean, hoping to trigger some long-buried spark of sympathy in him. "I promise I won't say anything to anyone, I don't even know who you are-"

 

Instead of sympathy, Kibum's plea sparks the opposite reaction. The kidnapper shoves him and stalks away, before coming back to crouch over him. "And go back to what? Your minimum wage job, wasting your life playing games on your phone? Do you know how big my house is? How many rooms even I've never seen? Huh? Is it so bad to let me show you? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

 

He's crazy, Kibum realises. 

 

As he's desperately trying to figure out how to escape without aggravating the nutter any further, the guy scoffs and backs off to sit on his heels next to Kibum. "What the fuck was I thinking?"

 

Search me, Kibum replies internally. 

 

"You're so pretty and I wanted you." Cold fingertips brush his cheek, and Kibum fights the urge to flinch. "So I took you. But..." the boy sighs. "It's not fun if you're like this. It's silly in hindsight, but I thought it'd be like... like I rescued you from your dull life and took you on adventures and stuff, and..." 

 

When he doesn't finish his sentence, Kibum unthinkingly prompts him. "And?" He regret the word as soon as it leaves his parched mouth, but it doesn't receive any of the reactions Kibum fears.

 

Instead, the guy scoffs a little. "And I thought you'd fall in love with me. God knows what use that would be to me, it's not like I'd fall for you in return but... it would've been nice, I guess. It was a pointless fantasy, and I've got stupid friends who encourage me to do shit like this instead of smacking some sense into me." 

 

Kibum really doesn't care. All he wants to know is whether he's going to be released or murdered. And yet, he sort of understands what the kid is getting at; it's a need for companionship, to feel like your existence matters to at least one person in this wide and cruel world. Kibum has felt it too. The only difference is that he hasn't gone out and kidnapped anyone in a harebrained attempt to satisfy this need. 

 

"I guess I'll have to return you to the store," the boy says. "I'd ask for a refund, but considering that the contents of your cash machine is on the floor of my house, I don't think that's going to happen, yeah?"

 

Is that a joke, Kibum wonders. 

 

The boy smiles then, and it transforms his face entirely. His eyes crinkle up with humour and a light chuckle escapes his lips. He looks nothing like the cold automaton who robbed the store, and Kibum stares up at him, entranced. 

 

"What's your name?" 

 

"Key." It's not his real name, but Americans tend to make fun of a person - a gay person no less - with the word 'bum' in their name, so he's used to introducing himself as just Key. 

 

The boy raises his eyebrow in disbelief, but he doesn't contradict Kibum. Kibum doesn't ask for his name in return. 

 

"I'll get the car ready," he says. 

 

It might be a little too early to start thanking God, but that is what Kibum does. For the first time since he woke up here, he believes that he might actually make it out of this ordeal alive. Oblivious to Kibum train of thought, the boy runs a hand through Kibum's hair and says "I'm not going to gag you again, so don't scream, okay? I don't want to have to hurt you." 

 

Just like that, Kibum's heart sinks again. He nods, not trusting his voice to form a steady reply. 

 

"Thanks babe." He winks at Kibum.  

 

 

 

 


	4. 4

 

 

"I got this for you," Taemin says, pressing his gift into Kibum's hand in the safety of their van. Kibum looks wary - he always looks wary these days - but takes the small, rolled-up bundle without complaining. 

 

"Am I allowed to look at this here, or..." 

 

Gyeongshik-hyung is driving the van, but he's an observant bastard. Still, what's life without a little excitement? "Maybe you can sneak a look?"

 

Kibum does so, opening his bear-sized palm slowly and peering at it out of the corner of his eye. "Taemin-ah-"

 

"I pinched it when the stylist wasn't looking." It's her own fault, really, for putting Kibum in those ridiculously short shorts. And it's Kibum's fault for having such nice legs. How can thighs look muscular and graceful at the same time and, more importantly, why can't Taemin ever have thighs like that? 

 

"Why?" 

 

"It looked good on you." 

 

Kibum smirks, and Taemin knows then that he's caught on to what Taemin wants. They do this every now and again, for convenience's sake. Judging from the way Kibum turns to look out of the window without protesting, it looks like he's up for it. Tamin will be late to dinner with Jongin and Moonkyu, but at least they'll have each other for company; besides, it's not like they're going to be angry with him for getting some. 

 

When Gyeongshik pulls up in front of Kibum's flat, Taemin unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to follow Kibum out of the van. 

 

"Where are you going?" the manager asks. 

 

"Uh, I'm going to... to see Comme des and Garcons," Taemin answers, cringing internally at the piss poor excuse. "Key-hyung will send me home later."

 

Any manager with half a brain would see through that excuse. Gyeongshik frowns, but Taemin just pulls the sliding door of the van shut and waves goodbye. 

 

*****

 

Taemin knows that the shop boy is attracted to him. He knows he's good-looking, knows that he turns heads wherever he goes, and Key's not the first person to look at hime like that. It's a pity that he keeps insisting that he wants to go home. 

 

Taemin gathers the best roses in his mother's garden for Key. He cannot put the shop boy in the passenger seat or the backseat of the car - no matter how much Key insists that he's not going to report his kidnapping to the police, he can't be trusted to keep his word - and he has no choice other than to lock him away in the boot. Still, he can make Key comfortable in the boot, keep him from worrying, if he lines it with roses and makes it pretty. The blue rose had stopped his tears earlier, so maybe they'll be a comfort to him now. 

 

The thorns on the rose bushes cut his hands, but Taemin doesn't mind. He's not a man who's afraid of a little pain. 

 

It takes a while before he's gathered enough roses to line the boot, and when he's done, Taemin steps back to survey his handiwork. The boot looks like a garden. Key will be so happy. A small voice at the back of his head whispers the truth to him, though; that no matter what he does to make Key comfortable, Key will always see him as a captor, a tormentor. He will never appreciate the lengths Taemin has gone to for him. To Key, he will become nothing more than a bad memory. 

 

Like he is to his parents. 

 

The thought of his parents darkens Taemin's mood, so he shakes his head to clear his thoughts and goes inside to fetch Key. 

 

*****

 

The plan had been to ask Kibum to change from his jeans to those shorts - and maybe to grab a bite to eat, too, since there wasn't any catering at the shoot - before starting anything, but the door's barely closed behind them when Taemin thinks, fuck it, shorts or no shorts, he wants Kibum right now. 

 

If Kibum is surprised by the way Taemin grabs him around the waist and pins him to the wall, he doesn't show it. Instead, he returns Taemin's kisses with equal ferocity and seems just as eager to shed his clothes as Taemin is to take them off him. Comme des and Garcons are milling about at their feet, whining; Taemin hopes they won't think he's attacking Kibum and bite him for it. 

 

"D'you think we can make it to the bed?" Kibum asks, when they're in their pants and Taemin is busy trying to leave a love bite under Kibum's collarbone. 

 

"No." 

 

Taemin sinks his teeth into Kibum's skin. "Fuck," Kibum curses, gripping a handful of his hair and tugging. Taemin hates it when people pull his hair, but today, it's an aphrodisiac. He pulls Kibum away from the wall and drags him over to the couch, where he knows Kibum has stashed a bottle of lube under the cushions. They've never fucked on the couch before, but he gets a little alcohol in him, Kibum isn't exactly shy about sharing details of his conquests. 

 

Instead of lube, Taemin finds aloe vera gel; it doesn't make a difference to him. 

 

It takes no more than a few seconds to get rid of their underwear. "On your knees," Taemin instructs. Kibum raises an eyebrow at his tone, but he does as he's told. Pity, Taemin was hoping for some resistance, for an opportunity to wrestle Kibum into his place. 

 

Taemin squeezes lube from the bottle directly onto Kibum's arse, taking a few second to smear it around his rim, and slicks himself up with lube. Prep is not something he's going to be bothered with today; Kibum can take this, he knows, and if he can't, Kibum is strong enough to throw him off. Still, when he pushes in, Taemin goes slow. Kibum groans, his muscles clenching hard around Taemin's cock. 

 

The fire in Taemin cools a little when he's fully seated and plastered against Kibum's back, the two of them taking a moment to breathe and find their bearings. He can feel Kibum's body relax a little under him, but he stays still, not wanting to hurt Kibum even if the other can take the pain. 

 

"Move," Kibum says, voice hoarse. 

 

"Beg for it." The words are out of Taemin's mouth before he can filter them through his brain, but he finds himself delighted at this new way to assert his dominance over Kibum, over his too-beautiful-for-his-own-good hyung. 

 

"You're really in a mood today," Kibum comments wryly. 

 

All it takes to wipe the sarcasm from his voice is a sharp thrust of Taemin's hips; the next sound that comes out of Kibum's mouth is a lewd gasp, and Taemin starts a fast and merciless pace before Kibum can recover from that first thrust. The thing about Kibum though, the thing that Taemin admires, is that he's a fighter. He's resilient. Kibum starts rocking back against him, meeting his thrusts and arching his back to let Taemin sink in that little bit deeper. 

 

They chase their climax together. When Taemin comes, he sinks his teeth into Kibum's shoulder; to muffle any sound and also to leave a mark. 

 

After they've caught their breaths and peeled their sticky bodies from each other, they take a shower - together . Kibum has a whole store's worth of bath products, and he lets Taemin pick the one they use. 

 

Silence falls between them. Kibum is uncharacteristically quiet, and Taemin worries that he might have been too rough, but when he asks, all Kibum says is "No, it's fine." 

 

Jongin and Moonkyu are waiting for him still, Taemin knows, but when Kibum climbs into bed after drying himself off, Taemin crawls under the covers too. Kibum doesn't say anything about this unexpected intrusion - cuddling is not usually a part of their trysts - but he rolls onto his side obligingly and allows Taemin to curl up behind him. With Kibum secure in his arms, Taemin closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. 

 

 


	5. 5, part i

 

 

 

 

The little ember of hope that had ignited in Kibum at his captor's promise to release him dies when the other leads him out of the house - still bound - and asks him to climb into the boot of his car. 

 

A boot that he has filled with long-stemmed blue roses, just like the one he'd laid beside Kibum earlier. 

 

It looks like a casket. 

 

Something in his body language must have given away his fear, because the boy says "It's only for a while, and I made it comfortable for you." 

 

Kibum doubts that lying on what is effectively a rose bush would be comfortable, but he remembers how volatile and imbalanced this kid is, so he just nods. With a heavy heart, he climbs into the boot and lies on down the prickly roses; he doesn't even get to catch a glimpse of the sky before the boot closes over him.  

 

*****

 

Taemin naps for just over an hour. Kibum is wide awake by then, but he doesn't leave the bed. Rest is difficult to come by when you're an idol. Instead, he lies there and idly considers whether he should dye his hair again. Perhaps red, like Taemin had back in 2012; perhaps black, since it's been such a long time since he's worn his natural hair colour.   

 

When Taemin does wake up, he blinks in disorientation - as if he's trying to figure out where he is - and shuffles over to lay his head on Kibum's shoulder. The weather is still chilly enough that the warmth of Taemin's body feels good. 

 

"Hullo," he murmurs sleepily. 

 

"Weren't you supposed to meet Jongin for dinner?" It's not that Kibum wants to get rid of Taemin. Alright, he kind of wants to get out of bed and he can't do that while Taemin is being a snugglebug, so he does kinda sorta want to get rid of him; it's just that Taemin has very likely forgotten about his dinner plans tonight. Kibum knows well enough that Jongin will be upset at being stood up and then Taemin will be sulky for days while he waits for Jongin to forgive him. And he'll be extra sulky at Kibum because, for whatever reason, he expects Kibum to remember his schedule even though he can't. 

 

In response, Taemin noses at that sensitive spot just under Kibum's ear, and starts trailing kisses along the length of his jaw. Kibum sighs at the sensation and tilts his head back, wordlessly encouraging the younger in his non-sexual display of affection. This is a side of Taemin most people don't understand. They always perceive him in binaries; as an innocent forever maknae who's never been kissed or as a heartless, selfish pop star who uses people for his own benefit. They don't see him like this, vulnerable and strong in equal measure. 

 

His kisses flutter against Kibum's neck as gently as the beating wings of a butterfly. 

 

*****

 

Never again is Kibum going to take seatbelts for granted. 

 

If his kidnapper's fear is that Kibum will figure out where he lives and lead the cops to him, well, he has nothing to fear after this car ride. Kibum has no idea how much time or how many miles have passed. His heart beats too fast for far too long, and he's worried that he'll have a heart attack before he's released. It doesn't help that he bangs his head against the side of the boot everytime the car turns, or that he's stabbed in the back with thorns everytime the car goes over a speebump or pothole. 

 

With each beat of his heart - the only measure of time Kibum has available to him, and damn, he wishes he paid more attention in school because then he'd remember how many beats per minute a human heart does - the fear that this unbalanced man is searching for a warehouse to kill him in increases. He's clearly rich and the cops aren't going to give a shit about the murder of some random Korean American liquor store employee, certainly not enough to trace it back to Mr Moneybags. 

 

The name makes him giggle a little, hysterical. 

 

Sirens. 

 

Kibum stops giggling. It could be an ambulance passing by. Or even if it is a cop car, who's to say that it's chasing the one he's in? 

 

Just as that thought crosses his mind, Kibum is thrown forward; his face hits the boot, hard, as the car suddenly accelerates. If he thought his ride was rough earlier, it was like being rocked in a cradle compared to the way Kibum is battered against the four corners of the boot he's trapped in. He's been on a roller-coaster once, and he screams now like he did then. 

 

The sirens faded away, but the car does not slow down. 

 

Screeching tyres. 

 

The car collides with something; Kibum hears the crunch of metal crashing into something solid a split second before he's thrown once more against the roof of boot. 

 

Darkness. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

"Do you think we'd be friends if we didn't debut together?" 

 

Taemin's mood swings today could rival that of a pregnant woman, Kibum thinks. "It depends, I guess." 

 

"Like, if we met for the first time at today's photoshoot." 

 

Kibum shrugs. 

 

"You'd probably like Suho or Yesung better." Taemin's tone is casual, but Kibum can tell that something is bothering him. He doesn't know whether it has anything to do with their fling today, but he's willing to bet that it's the reason he now has a massive bite mark on his shoulder. 

 

"Have you heard of the multiverse theory?" 

 

Taemin shakes his head. Kibum runs a hand through his spoft blonde hair, combing it and messing it up again, as he tries to piece together a simple definition in his mind. "Well, it's a physics theory that says that there are an infinite number of universes which parallel the universe we live in."

 

"Like alternate dimensions?"

 

"Yes. So in one universe, maybe we don't debut together, but we meet at the Cosmo shoot and become friends. But then there's another universe where we don't debut, meet at the Cosmo shoot, and don't become friends. And another one where we don't debut together, don't meet at the Cosmo shoot, but still become friends. Every possiblity that you can think of, from the moment you are born or not, has happened or is happening in another universe. But," Kibum rolls onto his side to face Taemin "in this universe, we did debut together and I do like you." He ends his sentence with a quick kiss pressed against Taemin's lips. And then, unable to stop at just one, Kibum leans in for another, deeper kiss, and when Taemin obliges him, his lips parting for Kibum like a blooming flower, all thoughts of the multiverse theory are forgotten. 

 

*****

 

There is a faint sliver of blue in Kibum's blurred vision. He groans, feeling his head throb; as he comes to, he becomes aware of various aches and pains all over his body. 

 

At first, he thinks the blue is from the roses, but afte a while, he realises that the blue is sky blue, and that what he's seeing is the outside world. The boot is open. That realisation spurs him to action, and Kibum struggles desperately, ignoring the stabbing pain in his skull, to get upright and escape from his flower-lined prison. Using his shoulder, Kibum pushes at the top of the boot until it yawns open. 

 

He's in the desert. A desert, since he can't tell which one. The sky stretches over him, unapologetically blue and clear, and this vast nothingness spreads as far as Kibum's eyes can see. 

 

He lands on the ground in a graceless heap, thanks to his still-bound wrists. 

 

A loud creak punctures the silence. Kibum freezes, fearful. He peeks around the car to see the boy falling on his hands and knees, from the driver's seat. Blood streaks down the side of his face and more than ever, he looks unhinged. When he stands up, Kibum sees the gun - the one that was pointed at him during the robbery - in his hand, and his blood runs cold. He was right, this guy had no intention of letting him go; he's brought him out here to the dessert for a quick and quiet execution. 

 

A whimper escapes him. 

 

The boy's head whips around to face him, and Kibum cowers back. Please don't come here, Kibum prays, but when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him, he knows that God has abandoned him. 

 

"You're hurt."

 

Kibum dares to open his eyes - how can someone so dangerous have such a soft voice - and immediately regrets it when the first thing he sees is the gun. He must have flinched or reared back or reacted somehow, because the boy looks down at his hand, where the gun hangs loosely in his grip, and stares at the gun as if he's never seen it before. 

 

And then he drops it. 

 

For a moment, he seems lost to the world; he looks up to the sky, arms hanging limp by his side, as if he's searching for answers. Kibum finds himself at a loss for words; he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know whether the strange man can be reasoned with at all. Everything he's done, from the moment he walked into the liquor store to this very moment, seems to have been done on a whim. The last time Kibum had asked to be released, it had served as provocation for his anger, so he keeps quiet. 

 

Eventually, the boy decides that the sky doesn't have his answers after all. He drops into a crouch in front of Kibum and abruptly reaches for his face, and Kibum's reaction is to lean out of his grasp. 

 

The boy lowers his hand. "You're bleeding," he says. "I just... I'm not going to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. You looked like you were interested in me, and I wanted to talk you so badly, I don't know why, but I already told my friends that we were going to rob the store and I couldn't back out. It was shitty of me to kidnap you like that, but I was going to make it up to you." 

 

"Untie me," Kibum dares to ask. 

 

Slowly, as if he's approaching a skittish colt, the boy reaches out and starts to undo the rope around Kibum's wrists. As the blood rushes back to his hands, Kibum feels faint, and he remembers that he hasn't had anything to eat or drink in a day. He breathes through the sensation of pins and needles crackling like electricty all the way up his arms and around his shoulders, and finds the boy watching him, as if he's waiting. 

 

"Where are we?" 

 

The boy shrugs. "I'm not familiar with this place."

 

When the other doesn't make a move, Kibum slowly stands up. The desert looks so empty, so deserted, that it feels like they're on a different planet. The car is wrecked; it's smashed into a tree, and it's clear that it isn't going to be moving anywhere anytime soon. 

 

"There should be a highway in that direction." The boy's voice startles him. Kibum turns around, fast, and sees him pointing away from the tree. "If you walk that way, I'm sure someone will find you. I didn't drive off the road for very long, the only reason the cops couldn't find the car was because I turned the lights off. They'd only just stopped following when I crashed." 

 

The invitation to leave seems sincere, as if the boy isn't waiting for him to turn around so that he can shoot him in the back. Kibum almost makes a run for it, but, when he takes a step away from the car, his conscience will not let him walk away. 

 

"What's your name?" he asks. 

 

Cold blue eyes land on him, vigilant, and for a moment Kibum regrets opening his stupid mouth. But then the boy answers "Lee Taemin" and the look in his eyes change from predatory to vulnerable, and Kibum is no longer afraid. 

 

"You're going to have to call a tow truck for the car. We might as well go together, before it gets too hot." 

 

The boy shakes his head. "Nah, the police are looking for this car. I'm going to stay behind and take care of it." 

 

That sets alarm bells ringing in Kibum's head. "I don't think there's much you can do for the car. If you're afraid of coming back with me because I'll call the police or something, don't worry. I won't. Buy me a Happy Meal at the next McDs and we're cool."  

 

That brings a smile to Taemin's face; a sad, wistful one. "You're too kind. You should be careful, you know. There are people out there who'd take advantage of that, like me. You shouldn't feel sorry for me, I'm not a nice person. Just..." he looks away from Kibum, as if he's embarassed. "I wonder... if maybe, in another life or something, we'd met under different circumstances, if we'd ever be friends." 

 

"Maybe," Kibum answers. "If we were models or something, and we happened to work together." 

 

That makes Taemin laugh. "Models?" 

 

"What?" Kibum fakes indignance. "Look at my face and tell me I don't deserve to be modelling haute coutoure in Milan instead of wasting my life away as a store clerk. And you're not too bad-looking yourself. The whole androgyny shtick you've got going on is the in thing in modelling these days. We'd meet for work and end up shagging every now and again." 

 

"Your place or mine?" 

 

"Mine," Kibum answers, imagining a flat for himself. "I have dogs, and you don't, so you come over to mine so that I don't have to miss feeding them." 

 

"Why can't I have dogs?" Taemin asks. "I like dogs." 

 

It's Kibum's turn to laugh. What an absurdity, that he's standing out here in the dessert arguing with his kidnapper about imaginary dogs. "Fine, you can have a whole pack-"

 

"And I'm more likely to be a dancer than a model." 

 

"Okay. Well, maybe you're a dancer and I'm a model and we both have dogs and some magazine or another wants us to collab because we're both pretty as fuck, so we meet and become friends. Maybe there's another universe where that happens, who knows?" 

 

"That would be cool."

 

Taemin looks at the car again, and Kibum pushes on, not willing to lose him just yet. "Kibum." 

 

"Huh?" 

 

"My name. It's Kibum. And you, Lee Taemin, owe me a Happy Meal. And a tall, sugary frou frou drink from Starbucks, too." Kibum extends a hand. "Come on, let's get outta here." 

 

For a moment, Taemin hesitates. 

 

He looks to the car, and to Kibum again. And then, he takes Kibum's hand. "Okay, let's go." 

 

 

XXXXXX

 

 

_well, that's it._

 

_some feedback would be nice, i guess. it doesn't take very long, but it makes a world of difference to an author, so if you read the fic and liked it/didn't like it, let me know._

 

_sherleigh_

 

 


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